


My brother

by Demonofyourheart (SLeclerc)



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt No Comfort, Kankurou has a difficult time, Multi, Temari is trying, at least he has friends, orgy-ish scene, that boy needs a hug, the pairing isn't really relevent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:22:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23336077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SLeclerc/pseuds/Demonofyourheart
Summary: When he first had baby Gaara in his arms, Kankurou swore we would protect his brother. Over the years, he still wishes for his salvation from this world even if it has to come in a more brutal way.Following Kankurou over years of leaving with Gaara, through snippets of his life.(Tagging isn't my forte yet XD)
Relationships: Kankurou (Naruto)/OC
Kudos: 9





	My brother

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Just to let you know I played around a bit with their age. Not totally comfortable to have them do what you're about to read if they are as young as they are in the anime/manga. So everyone will be a few years older to that Chunin Exam to keep my conscience safe and my sanity.  
> Other than that, enjoy! Not beta-ed, because no one wants to read my filth in my inner-circle oops and we die on the front line!
> 
> Characters aren't mine, but the shit I put them through is :P

Three years old

The first time he sees his baby brother is also the first time he sees a new heart-shattering emotion in his father’s eyes – an emotion he could now recognize as despair. The man exits the room with a bloody lump in his arms, haphazardly smothered in a blanket. When their eyes meet, he walks to his eldest son in large strides and gives him the newborn. “Gaara.” Is all he says before taking a few steps back – looking as if he could be bitten by saying the word. He tells Kankurou to look after his brother and he leaves. His father always needs to be somewhere. 

This is his brother; just as himself is Temari’s brother, Gaara is his’. He smiles brightly and holds the baby close to his chest. He kisses his forehead before wiping his mouth from the gooey substance they seem to have dipped his brother in. He would have to protect him until his father comes back or until his mother gets out. She must be tired, she said she would be tired from having Gaara get out of her belly. Temari is asleep on the floor next to Kankurou, she hasn’t seen the baby yet. Kankurou smiles a bit more: his father trusts him enough to not wake Temari to ask her to look after their new sibling. His father thinks he can protect Gaara and he will. 

He starts playing with the red hair on Gaara’s head as he waits. Gaara barely moves or makes a sound as he holds him. 

“Where did the Kazekage go? Where did he take his son?

-I know he was upset, but I can’t imagine he would... do something like that to him.” 

Kankurou looks up at the nurses who are fretting about outside the room Kankurou’s mother had just given birth. Suddenly, their eyes are on him, or more precisely on the newborn wrapped in a blanket the boy is holding. They rush to him, relieved to see Gaara unarmed. One of them extends her arms to take the baby, but Kankurou holds him tighter to his chest, maybe a bit too hard to the liking of the nurses. Gaara is so fragile and underweight, he needs care right that moment, no matter what the Kazekage could think, and no matter the resolve of a three years old. A woman keeps Kankurou still as the other takes the newborn and starts making her way further down the hall. Hot on her heels is a pestilent Kankurou who keeps saying that she has no right to take Gaara away; he is supposed to protect him until his father comes back; he is his big brother and he needs to make sure no one would harm him. The nurses smile sadly at his words, inwardly hoping he would keep this promise for as long as possible. 

+++

Five years old

Kankurou is always with Gaara. Always helping his brother with anything he needs. He would feed him before he was able to do it himself. He would make sure he stops crying when he is sad. He would tell the nurse when he needs to be changed. He even baths baby Gaara under supervision from the nurse. His father isn’t aware of any of that. His father is so important he must take care of a whole village. Kankurou is certain his father trusts him enough to be confident that Kankurou is able to tend to his brother’s needs. 

One evening, Kankurou is spoon feeding Gaara whom, for some reason or another, decided he wasn’t in the mood to feed himself. Kankurou thinks he was probably too exhausted from the long day they spent. He realizes that he should have let his brother take a nap. Now, Gaara is both a bit grumpy and tired. But when the weather in this desert village is so rarely comfortable, who could fault him from spending all his time with his siblings outdoor? 

A thundering sound makes him jump and he drops the spoon he’s been holding onto the table. He raises his gaze to meet his father’s, just in time to be bodily removed from the chair he was sitting in. He is dropped on his feet to the floor by him, grabbed by the elbow and dragged out of the room without a word. He glances at Gaara who looks just as bewildered as he does. Once outside, the door is closed behind him and his father takes him by the upper arms and forces him to meet his gaze. Kankurou is frozen in place, his brain barely managing to remember to breath. “Stay away from Gaara. He is too dangerous for you.” His father’s words are harsh. Kankurou tries to protest that his baby brother is nothing but dangerous. That only earns him a hard stare. Kankurou presses his lips together to stay silent. 

From the next day onward, Kakuro is forbidden from helping the nurse take care of his brother. He sees him, waves at him, but Gaara never smiles back at him. His bottom lip starts trembling when he sees Kankurou and his brows furrow. Kakuro just wants to run to him and hold him to stop him from crying. But he can’t. He is forbidden. He must turn away and walk in the opposite direction from where his brother is. 

As the days go by, he realizes that Gaara is always left in his room. Kankurou decides to sit in the hallway and stares at the door. His blood is pumping fast as the time goes by and no one comes to see his brother. No one enters the room to make sure he is fine. His brother is too young to be unsupervised like that! He starts crying in the hallway. It’s uncontrollable and he doesn’t even know why he started. Soon, he ears the tell-tale sound of his father approaching. His father crouches next to him, simply reminding him that he shouldn’t be here. Gaara is dangerous. Kankurou can’t stop crying, tears are blurring is vision as he stands up and is taken away and back to his room. 

Once he finally calms down, he turns his big black eyes toward his father who is still looking at him but with a very pensive expression. He comes near Kankurou and even sits with him on his bed before sighing deeply. “With my duties, I’ve been putting this off for too long. You need to start training to become a shinobi. You need to be able to protect yourself in the future.” He looks intently at his son who simply nods. 

Temari is already training. He sees her sometimes. He went to watch her practice, bringing Gaara along in the past. Kankurou nods once more for good measure, after which his father rises from the bed and heads for the door. Once alone again, Kankurou curls up in a ball on his bed. Truth be told, he doesn’t want to train. What could he gain from that?

Suddenly, realization flashes before his eyes. With a small smile, he starts believing that his father doesn’t want him close to Gaara because he isn’t strong enough to protect him. The boy is so fragile and small; he needs someone to look over him. Sometimes, he looks like he is even struggling to stay alive. The nurse herself is a shinobi. If he becomes stronger, he will be allowed back to his brother’s side. That makes sense. To a five years old boy who isn’t fully aware of the situation, it makes sense. 

+++

Nine years old

I don’t want him anymore! Take him back! Take him back! Take him back! 

Kankurou wants to scream at the top of lungs, but he can’t. He screws his eyes shut, tenses all his muscles and bites on his lips to prevent any sound from escaping. But he knows his face is giving him away. He can’t make a sound. He can’t. He can’t. He finally breaths in when he ears Gaara turning the corner. His exhale is shaky, and he holds back the tears that are wetting his eyes. He brings his hands to his stomach where the sand just lashed at him. There will be a bruise there. Another bruise. 

Training had made him more resistant to pain, but having his little brother hurt him isn’t the kind the pain he is trained to endure. He heard Gaara has never been able to sleep properly; it might explain why he is so short-tempered. Kankurou always tried to make an excuse for Gaara, always wanted to justify any wrongs he did. But now, he can’t. He can’t anymore. Any eye-contact is doomed; any word pronounced is one too many; any misstep is resulting in pain. Kankurou has tried everything: good things and bad things earn him the same result. 

As he walks, Kankurou manages to calm himself before he meets with his father at the academy near the eastern wall surrounding the village. He is waiting with his arms crossed and a line of stress between his eyebrows. Kakuro gets to him with his head low, ready to be snatched by the scruff of his neck as always. His father takes a fistful of his collar and hauls him inside without talking to him. As always. He only lets go of him when they are in from of the academy teacher’s room. He knocks once and goes inside, followed closely by Kankurou who barely spares a glance at his sister who arrived before him. Of course, she did. 

Being the busy man he is, their father asks for a concise report of his children’s progress. With his voice as monotone as ever, the man explains that he is very proud of Temari’s progress over the last few months: “Temari has shown very high abilities in wind style. She will become a very skilled kunoichi. I recommend you find her a good instructor specialized in techniques using that chakra nature.” Their father nods his head curtly. He glances at Kankurou and sighs. His voice is already resigned when he asks about his son. The man doesn’t bat an eyelash at the change of tone as he continues: “He is good overall, studious and high spirited.” Not buying any of it at face value, their father demands what his son should specialize in based on his chakra nature affinities. At that question, the teacher stays silent for a moment, but the words eventually fall from his lips: “I can’t say. He didn’t show any special attributes. He will be a nice shinobi, but maybe not a special one.” Another heavy sigh crosses his father’s lips and Kankurou bows his head to make sure he can’t make eye contact with him. He raises from his seat when his father does. He follows outside, but that’s as far as he’d go with him. He glances at his sister as she trots behind their father. 

He walks aimlessly through the city, but unconsciously heading for the southern training grounds. He is kicking stones along the way, hoping this minor act of violence will appease his mind. It doesn’t. What does, is the sight of the puppet masters practicing once he reaches the farthest south point of the protection wall. Despite himself, he starts smiling as he looks at them. He sits in the sand and watches them with rapt attention. When he is inevitably noticed, they all drop their puppets to the ground. “Oh, it’s the oldest son of the Kazekage.” Despite himself, Kankurou grimaces. Indeed, that’s him. “I’d be worried if it were the other one.” Kankurou sighs. Adults keep talking as if he weren’t there, as if Gaara wasn’t his brother. Gaara is... unwell. And that makes him dangerous. He has been repeating this to himself for months, maybe even years, because he has to believe it, if he doesn’t want to start seeing his brother like everyone else does. 

A woman walks in his direction and he stands up to greet her. “What are you doing out here?” Her voice is stern, like anyone in this village, but her eyes are softer. He prefers to trust her eyes than her voice. Even if he knows it can be frowned upon, he can’t stop himself from smiling again. A Sand ninja should be as arid as the desert. “I like to see you train. It’s fascinating. I would love to become a puppet master too. 

\- It’s not an ability that runs in your blood. You won’t be good at it.”

The answer crushes his good mood, but he doesn’t drop the smile. He doesn’t want to show how much it affects him. “But you can watch, I guess. As long as you don’t interfere with our training.” Kankurou sits back on the ground and wraps his arms around his knees. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t keep the scowl off his face. Still, he keeps his eyes on the puppet masters and lets that calm his aching heart. 

He won’t be good at it. Even their words don’t leave him the place required to try. Like his father. Everyone seems so adamant that he will fail. Maybe it’s him being stubborn, but he wants to try. He has to be proven that he is a failure. He may not be as outwardly competent as his sister, but he likes to think that he will be able to achieve something someday. Something. Someday. With that mindset, he starts looking at the shinobi, trying to pry apart the technique. He tries to capture their movements. Without realizing it, his fingers start moving in front of him. Nothing happens, but they are trying to follow the movements in front of him. They are dancing before his eyes, just like the puppets. 

For days on end, after his basic training with the other future shinobi, he would run to this training ground and he would look at the puppet masters. His fingers would keep dancing. Maybe if he moves them faster. Maybe if he puts force into his fingers. Someday, he took a rock with him. Maybe he needs to focus his attention on an object. Maybe the weight matters for it to work. He starts thinking that maybe those puppets are actually summons by own nicely they follow the puppeteer’s instructions. But he has seen them lifeless on the floor without their master; the shinobi are making them act. 

He has a headache and is maybe sporting a heat stroke when he decides to get to one of the libraries to fish out more information. He rests his forehead on the cool interior wall and takes deep breaths to ease the vertigo. He’s been sitting outside for hours to no avail so far. 

Kakuro makes his way through the building, trying to be discreet. His father is in the building. He has to capitulate after walking around 3 levels full of scrolls and no indications. Shyer than expected, he walks to a shinobi sitting at a desk with scrolls around him. The man shoots him a glance. “Where can I find scrolls about puppet master techniques?

-They teach that at school, now?  
-School project yes, Kankurou lies.  
-Such boring stuff. Anyway, second floor, close to the huge windows facing north.  
-Thank you.”

Kankurou half runs to the second floor. The windows facing north. Still just scrolls. He picks some up and starts reading them absentmindedly. Those contain instructions for various fighting styles, but nothing of interest to him. When he finally finds something, it’s starting to get dark outside. Not being a shinobi, he can’t take anything out of the library. He debates the worst that could happen if he misses dinner with his family without a proper justification. A little more disappointment from his father won’t kill him. 

He sits on the floor with the scroll. Although it explains the history of that puppet master art, it still doesn’t tell him a thing about how to make it happen. Even when his eyes start closing on their own, he tries to keep reading. However, he realizes that learning this might actually give him clues has to how to perform it. Even if those are brief and non-substantial, they are a start.

When he arrives to school the next day, one of his few friends comes to him and pokes at his clothes. “Are you seriously wearing the same thing as yesterday? Have you slept on the street or what?” Kakuro gives her a crooked smile: “Not quite.” The question doesn’t come back, but he can see the eyes of the others wondering the same thing. The son of the Kazekage coming to school in such an unkept appearance is looked curiously upon. Kankurou just shrugs. 

Even a few dozen earfuls later from his father and maybe a couple of slaps also, Kankurou still spends nights away from home. He is starting to have to be pretty creative to hide all night long from shinobis or, even worst, from his own father. And he gives his position away again when, after days, nights, weeks, of effort, chakra accumulates at the tips of his fingers and connects with his precious rock and he screams his joy. 

Even the beating he gets from his father doesn’t deter his satisfaction, even if the man interprets it as disrespect to his authority. Kankurou can only feel contempt when he lays down on his bed and feel the tips of his fingers tingling from new chakra paths creation. 

+++

Twelve years old

With confidence in his steps, Kankurou makes it to the south training ground, his headband glimmering in the dying daylight. When he reaches it, three shinobi are still lazily practicing. From his long coat, Kankurou takes a little puppet he made himself from the wood he could gather. When the Shinobi stop sparing and look at him, he sets the puppet on the sand. He takes a deep inhale and concentrates. Stress is making his pinky fingers tremble, but he is otherwise in control. He has to be. How could he control another being if he can’t reign in himself? 

The snicker the other shinobi sport turns into an amused half-smile when they see strings connecting with the puppet. With a smile of his own, Kankurou makes it move around and take a battle stance. “Who is your teacher?” Kankurou snorts at them. “No one. I’m my own teacher.”

A guy walks towards the boy and stops a few meters away from him. He bows lightly; Kankurou does the same. After watching them practices for so many years, he knows the rituals for a friendly spar. His first spar as a puppet master! The guy animates one of the puppets laying on the ground. “Why are you using that thing? It’s all beat up?” One of his friends asks. “It’s gonna be good enough. Hey kid, we’ll just be testing stringing skills. The point is not to attack the puppeteer, but to destroy the puppet.” Kankurou nods enthusiastically. The fight begins and Kankurou is constantly dodging attacks. The opponent is massive compared to Kankurou’s 30cm model. But his is agile and the way he makes it move is fast and sharp. Although he manages to break a piece of the wood with a nice backward kick, he barely has two minutes to celebrate his little victory before he sees his wooden-soldier scattered to pieces. The strings break from his finger and he sighs. Winning was an improbability. Still, he smiles. It had been fun. 

“For a kid who self-taught puppet master jutsus, you’re pretty decent. I’ll give you a piece of advice: stop thinking humanoid. Think beyond that. You are currently using your puppet as if it had actual elbows or even limits. If you oil it right and use bead-like joints, you could make something more efficient.”

The following week, Kankurou came by with a new puppet. He is still grateful his father hasn’t caught up to the fact that he had been rummaging through garbage cans to find material. His father would be really disappointed if he learned his son is behaving like a beggar. 

At first, the training shinobi don’t pay attention to him: it’s just Kankurou, he’s often here to watch. He sits on the floor and analyses the movement their fingers are making and comparing it to the movement produced by the puppet. However, one of them, one who was here last time the boy came, ends up smiling briefly at him. “Show me what you made.” Kankurou jumps to his feet and runs to him directly. From his coat, he takes a spider-shaped puppet. The man takes it and looks at it. “No bad. We’ll be done in about an hour. Then, if you want, I can smash it for you.

\- I accept the challenge.  
\- You humoring the kid now?” asks a woman as she moved her puppet back in her direction.

The man simply shrugs and shoos Kankurou away. With excitement coursing through his veins, he sits away in the sand. He has practiced so much this week, even yesterday his whole arms were still spasming from too much chakra trying to rush to his fingers. 

Finally, he sees the other shinobi starting to pack their puppets and passing straps over their shoulders. The only one remaining on the training ground is Kankurou’s opponent. The boy comes to him, bows to him and gets in position. No need to set the rules as they both know how it will turn out. Kankurou looses his concentration when he sees a smile forming on the man’s lips, the kind of smile that says his opponent is impressed. It’s not enough to have the puppet trashed, but it loses half its limbs in the process. 

Kakuro lets out a growl of frustration when his attack has a piece popping before it reattached. “Detachable parts, always useful on a puppet. You got more implement to control but in a fight it’s worth it.” New pieces of information have Kakuro’s brain doing overtime as he tries to stay focus. 

When his puppet is nothing more than small shards of wood scattered across the training ground, Kankurou lets out a heavy sigh. The man comes to him and clamp the boy’s shoulder with his hand. “You seem so determined to be a puppet master. I don’t think us as kids were as diligent.” Even if his voice is as flat as the desert ground around, Kankurou can hear a praise he has longed for for so long. He tries to hide a smile by biting his lips. 

Days after days, he keeps coming back; sometimes, he has a new puppet. Every time, it’s destroyed; but, every time, it takes longer for it to be pulverized. This is the accomplishment Kankurou was aiming for. “Weird question: why do all your puppets look alike?” Kankurou’s eyes are shining with curiosity and he waits expectantly for an answer. One of the shinobi lets out a laugh, but it sounds more tense than it probably should be. His eyes are down cast when he says: “A great puppet master left plans for puppets he created. We are still using them. 

\- From Sasori of the Red Sand? I’ve heard about him.  
\- Who hasn’t.” 

The question is more rhetorical than anything else. Everyone knows about Sasori. Most still alive never actually met him, but everyone is aware of him. “The Kazekage must be very proud to have such a promising puppet master in the making in his family.

\- He still doesn’t know. I only wanted to tell him when I was sure I was good at it.”

Telling his father had been harder than he would have imagined. He can still remember how wet his palms were and how tense his back felt. Fortunately, his voice had not shaken. His father coolly looked at him and nodded. It’s only when Kankurou rose from bowing that his father dared say a word. “It’s better a decent puppeteer than nothing. It could actually be useful when dealing with Gaara.” Even if his father looked pensive, Kankurou hadn’t been able to repress the anger that had risen inside his stomach. 

Walking down the street from his father’s office, Kankurou still tries to calm his negative emotions. He will not be a tool to help deal with Gaara. Despite all the bad things his little brother can do, he does not deserve to be seen as something to be dealt with. Gaara is only nine years old. As he grows up, it will be better. He will learn to control himself. Even if Kankurou is still sometimes scared of him, he strongly believes that what Gaara needs is support, not plans to perform his assassination. 

“You fucking monster! What are you doing roaming the streets? 

\- Stop it. Stop saying stuff like that. We need to go. Just look at him! I DON’T WANNA DIE!” 

Those words! Kankurou takes a sprint down little alleyways until he finds himself a few meters behind Gaara. The sand is already rising around him. He can see the tense line of his neck and the way his fingers are trembling, and he rises his hands toward the two genins running away. Without sparing a thought at what he should do, Kankurou throws both hands forward, chakra strings springing forth and managing to pull Gaara backwards. It hits the sand coming up to protect the boy, but the strings are strong enough to force back the whole package of Gaara and his sand until they collide with Kankurou. The sand is biting at his skin and lashing at him on impact. Kankurou can taste blood as he falls backwards also. When he looks up it’s to see Gaara looking mortified and angry. “I would have killed them. I’d have to kill you instead to satisfy the needs of my sand.” Kankurou snorts as he rises to his feet. Kankurou barely spares Gaara a glance as he starts walking away. If Gaara wants to kill him, it doesn’t matter if he walks or runs. As he rounds the corner, he smiles as he realizes that Gaara won’t go through with his threat. He collapses to the floor, exhausted from the rush of chakra he used, from the fear, and from the pain. 

For a whole week, every time his eyes meet Gaara’s, all he can read in them is hate and anger. This only fuels his own rage. One night, he starts crying from how much it hurts to hate his own little brother. At some random times, he remembers the look he gets, and he would start feeling tears wetting his eyes. To hide it, he would train harder, he would be more aggressive. Sometimes he would injure himself because of his recklessness.

His heart rate picks up when, one night, he sees sand crawling under his closed door. Every little grain is a threat on its own. It looks like a scene from a horror story. The kind he would hear the under genins invent when talking about Gaara. If he lives this one through, he’ll tell them they were right. Eventually the sand forms a human shape and Gaara materializes into the room. “When did you learn that trick?” Kankurou can’t keep the amusement from his voice. Gaara looks at the floor. “It’s new.” When he looks at Kankurou, the older boy is pleased to see that the anger is gone. Maybe not the hate, this one never seems to fade. But at least, maybe his life is not at risk tonight. Maybe Gaara didn’t come here with killing intent. However, Kankurou can’t quite calm his own anger. Gaara walks into the room until he is barely thirty centimeters from Kankurou who subconsciously rises his chin to look intimidating. Gaara’s voice is flat as he talks: “Today is the death anniversary of our uncle.” Kankurou must bite his lips to prevent any snarky remark to erupt from his mouth. Like he doesn’t know what day today is.  
“Have you ever willingly hurt yourself?” The question seems genuine. Kankurou is taken aback, but he remains defensive. Is this a new line Gaara came up with to initiate violence? “No.

\- I tried before, once. My sand is preventing me. Do you know the pain inside? Do you feel it? I thought that if I hurt myself, it would make this pain bleed out of me.” 

Gaara walks to one of Kankurou’s desk and takes a kunai in his hand. It looks so out of place in the boy’s grasp. He probably never actually used one. His sand does every bloody thing for him. “I hate you. I hate everyone. Everyone is just ignoring my pain.” Gaara brings the kunai to the back of this free hand. The sand rises to block the weapon. “See. Even my sand is ignoring it.” Rage blinds Kankurou has he takes the kunai in one swift movement. Ignoring?! Kankurou feels like everything he has even done was protecting Gaara! With his words, he would try to appease their father. With his actions, he would keep others away from his little brother – so they can’t hurt him, so he can’t hurt them. Now, he is angry, blood red angry. The blade slashes through the skin of his forearm and be starts breathing heavily as he stares deep into Gaara’s eyes. The boy’s mouth opens as he takes a sharp intake of air. He looks fascinated, but also wrongly envious. “No amount of bleeding out can extract the pain it causes me to have you as a brother.” Kankurou feels bold and deadly. He knows his physical actions won’t hurt Gaara, all he has left are words. He knows they can be worst. His father has used them on him so often. Gaara’s frail form starts shaking from boiling rage. He sets his jaw, but only a vast pool of sand collapse when Kankurou thought he would explode in violent fury. The sand breezes out of his room as the door opens wide from the impact. 

Kankurou brings his hand to the cut and swallows thickly. The danger of the situation rushes to his mind and he starts hyperventilating as he realizes what he had just said. He wants to run after Gaara and tell him it was just his anger speaking. Blood is flooding through his fingers and he cringes as he notes that the cut is deep. He still manages to move his fingers. He didn’t harm himself. 

He walks out of his room and to the interior training room he knows has a medical kit. When he walks in, he sees his father already there. He doesn’t look at him as he reaches for the bandages. It’s the first time he sees his father this week. It had to be now! “What happened to you?” The same lie he tells every time he is injured after an encounter with Gaara: training accident. “You’re as incompetent as ever.”

\- Sorry to disappoint you.  
\- Work harder.”

Kankurou fights the tears has be finishes to wrap his forearm. For Gaara, he would lie. Because despite all Gaara says, what he hates is not people, it’s being alone. Kankurou knows, but there is still nothing he can do. 

++++

Seventeen years old

“So, how was your first solo mission? Was a pretty important one from what I heard.” Kankurou smiles at his sister as she falls in step with him. His first solo mission indeed. The Kazekage never trusted him enough before; or at least, that how he thinks things are. But he hopes that this time he showed his worth. Everything went smoothly although it was a very tight deadline and any misstep could have been fatal. All Kankurou brings back are good news and no shame for his family or his village. Just like the man requested. Kankurou has already been told that he is disposable; unlike Gaara, he can be replaced. 

It would normally had been his sister who would have been sent on such a delicate mission, but she was busy elsewhere and barely comes back the same time he does. He doesn’t ask about Gaara, but Temari tells him their brother is doing somewhere between better and worse. She went home to drop her things and saw him simply standing in the middle of the living room. She tried talking to him – she always does. The dark circles under his eyes seemed darker than before; he seems maybe a little more unstable. His hatred seems deeper, but his murders are fewer. Kankurou simply shakes his head from side to side. Neither glad nor depressed to learn such things. Over time, he learned to not expect anything from Gaara. Something is wrong with that kid and no matter what he can try, nothing can help him, nothing can fix things. Gaara is broken and the whole village must live with that. It’s problematic when he kills good shinobi, but otherwise, life goes on in the desert. 

“Is this your permanent new puppet master outfit?” Temari asks as she points out his all black pants and long sleeve shirt. Kankurou simply nods. “Even the hood?” He can hear the laughter in her voice. He nods again but shoves her lightly with his shoulder. “I can move around easily and if it needs to get down to hand-on-hand combat, I’m not stuck in heavy robes.

\- You could have gone with something a bit more form fitting, don’t you think?  
\- Gives me the liberty to get fat if I see fit.”

Temari can’t hold back her laughter and that earns the pair quite a few glares from villagers. Barely anyone in this village knows how to laugh anymore; or so it seems. When they get to the Kazekage’s office, they both look at each other before putting on their best stern face. Their father is behind the desk, as usual. He thanks them for their hard work, extends a hand and collects their mission reports. He reads through them in a glimpse. He rises his stare at his children who are statue-still in the office. A moment later, they start breathing once more when he goes through the papers on his desk. He hands one to each of them: new missions. “Come back tomorrow at sunset, I’ll give you the finer details.” Kankurou bows and exits. He knows he is not needed anymore. He goes outside and find some shade. He breaths in deeply and tries to calm down. Being near this man always makes stress bubble up in his guts. He had been on very special missions for the safety of the village with him; but that never stopped his inner-panic. 

“So, ready to go back home?” Kankurou raises his face toward Temari who is waiting expectantly. He considers the situation for a split-second. He would ratter not go home, because home equals Gaara. He may not hate the kid, but he sure can’t stand being in close quarters with him. Living in the same home as him is the same as being on a “S” rank mission daily. You need to stay on high alert because danger can spring out of nowhere at any given time. Kankurou would rather pass. He does feel bad for leaving Temari alone with their unstable brother, but he learned over time that his mental health is more valuable than pretending to protect his sister, who doesn’t need his help because if Gaara decides to kill any of them there nothing to stop him. 

He rises to his feet and gives her a weak smile before saying he might not go home tonight. “Again?” Her voice is tense and maybe it is also betraying a touch of exasperation. “Yeah, again.” She looks at him from the corner of her eyes as she turns to leave. She sighs, the same sigh his father always has for him. It makes his twitch as he ears it. Another sigh, but this time it’s her own. “Where will you go?

\- Out. I don’t know yet. I’ll find people, I’ll find a place. Despite what people may think, there is still ways to have fun.  
\- Kankurou! You’re still too young for going out like that!  
\- With a brother like ours, you better live your life fast because the end is imminent.”

He sees the sadness in her eyes, but he can’t find it in him to feel guilty. He nods curtly at her before leaving. Even if he can’t find something entertaining to occupy his time tonight, he would much rather sleep in the library than at home. As he walks the streets, he meets people he knows. They wave at him to get closer, which he does with a lopsided smile. “Anything fun planned tonight?” Kankurou asks as he grabs one of the guy’s shoulders. “Nothing legal.” The answer he gets only makes his smile widen. That’s exactly the kind of reply he was expecting and that was always the start to a very enjoyable evening away from home. 

A few hours later, he finds himself stuffed of food and starting to feel a nice buzz from the illegal alcohol he is consuming. His father had ban alcohol from the village after too many irresponsible people abusing and causing havoc. But that never stopped people going outside the village to bring back some booze to enjoy privately. As long as the Kazekage doesn’t know… everything is fine. 

Kankurou drinks down another mouthful and sighs contently. The feeling coursing through his veins make him feel a little dizzy, but also mostly completely worry-free – and that is the best feeling he can ask for. He removes the outer layer of his outfit, leaving him in a loose black wifebeater and his pants. A girl comes to him and starts poking at an angry looking bruise he has on his shoulder blade. “That looks painful…” She pouts as she keeps poking it endlessly. “Gaara?

\- Only when you touch it. Nah, actual training.  
\- Want me to make the pain go away?  
\- You got any healing jutsu?”

She smiles at him and says that she has even better. She sets her hands on each side of his face and starts kissing him softly. He wraps his arms around her waist and sets her on his lap. He starts stroking her back with feather-like fingers and it makes her shiver when he comes in contact with naked skin on her neck. Her hands are now playing with his hair and Kankurou lets out a satisfied sigh at the feeling. Her hands are under his shirt and caressing his skin as soon as he drops kisses along her jaw and down her neck. She presses her lips to his, while she keeps touching him. He breaks the kiss long enough to remove his top, get her out of her shirt and to unclasps her bra. “Oh, your boobs are gorgeous.” Kankurou whispers against her neck as grabs them with both hands. She lets out a moan when he rolls her nipples between his forefinger and thumb. They keep kissing as he massages her breasts, and the moans those actions elicit from her make his heart pound louder. With the way she is sitting in his lap, there’s no way she can’t feel the hardness forming in his pants. 

“Suck me.” Kankurou’s voice is breathless and sound more like a plea than the order he wanted to convey. She nips at his lips a few more times before she smiles at him. “Only if you suck on them.” Kankurou smiles back at her as she straightens her back and he lowers his head to wrap his lips around a perked nipple on which he suckles lightly. With one hand he massages the lonely breast. She grabs the back of his head and he keeps him pressed again her chest. She moans and that only gets louder when Kankurou moves his other hand between her legs to rub her clit through her pants. 

A large hand gets on his and bats him away from the area. Kankurou can’t fight the smile that stretches his lips. She moans louder when another guy starts caressing her over her clothes. He has to stop kissing her skin when she moves around to have her pants and underwear removed. When she is back at him, she makes him lay down on the bed and with a wink and a smile, she drags his pants and underpants down and off his legs. She makes him comb his fingers through her light brown hair as she starts licking at his now exposed cock. He throws his head back a brief second when her mouth sinks down his length. Oh that’s good! He gets support on one elbow, running on hand on her neck and shoulders as she starts bobbing her head. He sighs when her tongue caress him just right and he praises her when she gives him a few good deep sucks. He lifts his gaze in time to see a cute long-haired blonde girl kissing her way down the other girls back. His partner starts moaning vehemently as Kankurou understands that the other girl is most likely rubbing her clit and/or fingering her. That’s hot! 

The blonde makes a show of kissing her neck and shoulder, looking at Kankurou as she brings both hands to the other’s breasts that she caresses fully. A guy gets behind the brunette, stroking his cock in his hand, fiddling to get the condom package open with his teeth. Kankurou takes his dick from the girl’s mouth but shoves his fingers in instead. She looks surprised at first, but the way she eyes flutter and her teeth softly sink in the meat of his fingers while the guy enters her make Kankurou smile in appreciation. The blonde girl lifts her face, making Kankurou’s fingers slip past her lips in the process and she starts kissing her softly, swallowing her high moans. Kankurou is left panting, just looking at them. “You look like the fourth wheel of a tricycle.” A deep voice rumbles next to his ear. Kankurou turns his face to the side and catches the other man’s lips in a searing kiss. The man moves him in order to get cradled between his legs. He rubs their erections against one another and makes them sigh both. Kankurou bites his lips and he watches the guy get his hand on a condom and some lube. He spreads his legs a little further apart and throws his head back, a long throaty moan escaping him as he gets impaled on that glorious cock. That’s the only guy he allows these days inside of him because this cock is the best! The way it just slides smoothly in and out, reaches the depth he needs, the bent of it making it rub with the perfect pressure where he likes it best. Kankurou is arching his back, grabbing the muscular thighs of his partner as he moves expertly inside him. The too soon stretch is numbing, but the pleasure is coiling in his guts. He lets out a pleased moan as the brunette girl starts peppering kisses on his face as they both get fucked. “Can you fuck me deeper?” Kankurou pants as he tries to adjust his hips to get that perfect friction he knows he can get with this guy. “Just spread a bit more for me.” The man holds him by under his knees and forces his legs further apart. Flexibility has ever been his forte, but for the heady spike of pleasure he gets from this new angle, Kankurou can endure and forget the stretch. 

The blonde girl comes to Kankurou and traces his face with both hands and smiles at him. “You look so wrecked. You are going to pleasure me.” Kankurou can only breath that he’ll try. She sets her legs on either side of his face and she lowers her twat to his mouth. He laps at her folds and her clit. His hands are holding her hips tightly as he sucks and licks her clits. He rolls it with the tip of his tongue, before pressing flat against it, drinking her juices as they seep from her opening. He keeps flicking it when he realizes this is making her cry out more than any other ministrations he tried. She is holding his head with both hands. “Fuck me with your fingers!” Her voice is strained, demanding, pleading. He keeps stimulating her clit while he pushes three fingers at once in her. She cries out; she loves it. He rubs against her inner wall with almost constant rhythm. 

Concentration gets difficult as the man bends him a little more and his thrusts get that precise angle and strength to make him loose his mind. The girl is trembling above him. Her hand comes to replace his tongue as she stimulates her clit in fast jerking movements of her fingers. She is now moving on his fingers, fucking herself on them and moaning. Soon after, she is cumming and her sleek is dripping down Kankurou’s fingers, to his hand and eventually on his wrist, but she is still fucking herself through it and past it; and that heightens Kankurou’s pleasure. The way she feels so hot and tight around his fingers, and even more so with every additional movement she makes. 

Kankurou isn’t close to cumming yet, but he is feeling too damn good! He looks at the man fucking him. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes covered by a veil of pleasure and his grunts are coming past his lips with every hard thrust he gives. Kankurou’s free hand caresses his thigh, his nails sometimes biting into the skin when he is left breathless by a particularly good movement in. 

The girl reaches her second orgasm and her inner muscles are spasming around Kankurou’s fingers. She collapses on the bed next to him and presses a swift kiss to his cheek. The man is still pounding him mercilessly and Kankurou smirks at him the best he can. “Finally, all to myself.” His partner says before kissing him passionately, folding Kankurou in two and reaching even deeper. Kankurou grabs him by the ass and at that point the man is simply rutting inside him. 

When Kankurou cums, it’s with a breathless scream and a bite to the other’s lower lip. The man straightens and pounds into him roughly to chase his own orgasm. Kankurou is boneless and every additional stimulation makes him spurt a few more droplets of semen over his already soiled stomach. “I’ll cum in your mouth.” He moves out of Kankurou’s ass, removes the condom and shoves his cock down the other’s throat, up to the base. Kankurou would be choking if wasn’t used to it by now. The man is fucking his mouth until he is cumming down in throat with a satisfied moan and a subsequent grunt as Kankurou licks his slit with a fucked-through smile. 

He ears the brunette laugh close to his ear as he falls, satiated and body heavy against the mattress. They are also done it seems. “If you father knew you liked sodomy, he’d murder you.” Her tone is playful. She starts playing with his hair. “Anyone our parents age would kill their child. These old folks are so close minded, still stuck in the idea that the main thing to do for Suna is create more Ninja babies. We can’t even train them properly, what’s the point.” The other girl’s input is welcomed with a cheer. 

The man fits himself between Kankurou and the wall, wrapping his arms around the other’s waist and moving them in order to comfortably spoon him. “You are staying here tonight?” The question, Kankurou knows, is actually a request, and comes with light kisses down his neck. Kankurou shudders and with false annoyance agrees to stay. 

It’s with a pounding headache and panic in his veins that Kankurou puts his clothes on after a quick shower the next morning. The hangover is killing him, and he feels grumpier than usual. The sun isn’t up yet, but he doesn’t have much time if he wants to stop by the house, change his outfit and grab a bit of food. Might as well go with Temari. But every movement seems hazy and uncoordinated. The blonde girl wakes up when she ears him curse after his missing undershirt. She gets up, throws it at him. He gets it, thanks her while grumbling about early mornings, and adjusts his hoodie over his head. She grabs him by the shirt and kisses him deeply. Something is shoved in his mouth and he swallows it. “Bad shinobi, you shouldn’t swallow everything people put on your tongue. 

\- Bad habits. You guys, it’s your fault I have it.” Kankurou whispers against her lips before kissing her once more. 

He leaves as his mind starts getting hazy. This is not the hangover manifesting. It’s not headache medicine she gave him. He is certainly not complaining. It always makes his meeting with the Kazekage more pleasant. 

He gets home swiftly and slides into his room unnoticed. He changes to another all black outfit, like he has plenty of in his closet. He spares a look at himself in the mirror. His cheeks are a little too red and his eyes look a bit unfocused. He can still say it’s the lack of sleep. It would be very much believable if it wasn’t for the slight twitch the right side of his face keeps making. He gets in the kitchen in time to help Temari finish packing them something to eat as they will walk to their father’s office. Before they leave, she stops him at the door, asks him if everything is fine. With a too enthusiastic smile, he says he’s feeling good. She looks at him as if she’s trying to solve some puzzle: her brother doesn’t look like his usual self, but she can’t pinpoint what the abnormality quite is. Kankurou leans to speak into her ear: “I’m not sure what it is, but I took something this morning. Nothing legal of course. And now, I’m fucking flying.” The way he finishes his sentence on a horribly restrained laugh makes Temari let out a loud yelp of annoyance. Kankurou covers her mouth with his hand, his eyes suddenly filled with panic. “Do not alert HIM here.” Temari glares at him. “How dare you do something like that?! If Father finds out, you are in deep shit, and so am I because I let you do something like that.

\- He will never know! He never looks at me. I could paint my face purple and he would never give a shit! You know what? I’ll do just that! That's what most puppeteers do anyway!” Kankurou left with anger now running wild in his body. 

When he came back, purple markings were on his face. “Don’t be childish. What are you trying to achieve here?

\- I’m making a point!” 

Temari sighs, that same disappointed sigh Kankurou as heard too much, and they leave. The sun is starting to peak at the horizon, and they wouldn’t want to be late to their father’s office. Once they are inside, the man asks them to close the door and to come get new papers with greater details about their upcoming missions. When Kankurou comes near, the man looks at his face for no more than a second, sighs, but no words cross his lips. He’s dealt with worst idiocrasies from his son. Kankurou spares a look at the paper on his hands: two young nobles to escort to their village. It seems they had been attacked on their way and made a stop in Suna to get assistance for the rest of the journey. A solo mission: his favorites. 

“Kankurou, you’ll be departing immediately. The nobles should leave their inn in a few hours at most. I expect the upmost respect and diligence.” Kankurou simply nods as an answer. He fights a smile when he sees Temari about to object. She wouldn’t dare say that is under influence, would she? She presses her lips tightly together and breaths in deeply. Not a word. 

The mission, on its own, hasn’t been a disaster. The first few hours were a little more challenging than they should have been. Puppeteering proved more difficult than usual while the drug was still in effect. But it had been entertaining in its own way. The nobles were actually two young women, quite charming in fact. Even if he was a shinobi, they were talkative and liked to argue on mundane things with him. As their destination comes into view, the youngest of them grabs Kankurou’s sleeve and smiles at him: “You are strong, why aren’t you Chunin yet?” Kankurou smiles, but his face betrayed how uncomfortable the question makes him. She is an outsider; she couldn’t know. She starts apologizing for asking such an indiscreet question. He cuts her off with a light laugh. “I’m stuck in a three men squad with Gaara. We need to wait for him to be more stable before he undergoes the exam.” 

\- The One Tail?  
\- The one and only.  
\- I’m surprised you’re still alive. It must be horrible being stuck with him. Lucky you’re just on a team with him. Imagine being one of his siblings.” 

Kankurou manages not to make a face or explode in bottled up rage. The other girl decides to chip in, and this is testing his patience a little more, as this is a very sensitive subject. “His siblings, aren’t they all dead?  
\- Don’t be silly.” Both girls are laughing, but Kankurou isn’t. 

+++

Nineteen years old

The journey to the Village where the Chunin exam is held is a very precarious one. There’s a fine line between juggling with Gaara’s fleeting mood and outright trying to drown him in the nearest river they eventually encounter. Kankurou has to keep his jaws tight to prevent any comment from crossing his lips has they make their way through the trees. Baki and Gaara are ahead of him. Even if it makes him look weak, he claims his puppets on his back are heavy and make him slower. He says he’ll catch up before they get to their destination. It gives him a break from Gaara’s glare. He can feel the stress eradiating from Temari and their team leader. It’s nauseating. He tries not to let it get to him; he’s nervous enough that he might just have to stop abruptly to panic-vomit. 

Temari gets at his side a few moments later. She looks at him with worry in her eyes. She is playing with the hem of her fan as she looks ahead. When she finally voices her worries, it’s in a hushed voice: “I hope Gaara won’t fail.” Kankurou snorts and with a grim smile on his lips, he says: “I hope he does. I’d rather have our village shamed for the coup, than going back home with him alive. He’s still my brother, and at that point, I think only death would be his peace.”


End file.
